


Sanguine Colored Secrets

by levrispero



Series: Destiny of Prey [2]
Category: The Arcana (Visual Novel)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vampire, F/M, M/M, Other, What We Do In The Shadows AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-27
Updated: 2020-06-21
Packaged: 2021-03-03 06:08:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,269
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24399994
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/levrispero/pseuds/levrispero
Summary: The apprentice can't stay away from Julian. Their fixation with each other unknowingly draws him into a world that would compromise his integrity and his safety: Some would kill to keep secrets from seeing the light of day.The Arcana meets What We Do in the Shadows aka Modern AU. Written with they/them pronouns. Part two of the Destiny of Prey series
Relationships: Apprentice/Asra (The Arcana), Apprentice/Julian Devorak, Asra/Julian Devorak, Julian Devorak/Reader
Series: Destiny of Prey [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1761934
Comments: 14
Kudos: 24





	1. Chapter 1

He swore he saw them the next three nights, out of the corner of his eye. He’d scarcely take a step towards them before another customer or coworker would call him away, and they’d be gone again when he looked back. He’d dash out to the alley mid pour, mid wipe of the counter, on the vain hope they’d be out back waiting to ravish him. He’d sigh and head back in, sheepish smiles to his coworkers. It felt like a second curse.

It was risky business to be flirting with a human. Especially one with such a peculiar… immune system. They were happy he had survived the attack, but to have no sign of it was shocking. It was distinctly not human, which was serving as a great excuse for their obsession. If they could get into the study unnoticed, they might find some answers. But that meant getting past an already suspicious Asra, who was starting to wonder why they smelled of booze and smoke after a nightly walk to get some “fresh air”. As a bat, it was easy to lurk in the alley’s fire escape, watch his lanky form comically tear around the corner. He probably wanted to know just what in the hell they wanted, showing up there night after night without so much as a ‘hello’. Stalker.

He shook the cocktail shaker in time with the beat of the blaring music in the background. The man who ordered the drink was shamelessly thirstier for Julian than the alcohol, and they both knew it. Julian winked cheekily and gave the cold metal several long and suggestive strokes. Just like that, a $20 tip on a $10 drink. A few more refills and he’d treat himself to takeout tonight. Maybe Thai, or branch out and give that new Lebanese place a try? He was occupied contemplating one of life’s greatest dilemmas when another body slid into a rare opening at the crowded bar. Eyes burned into Julian’s back, practically igniting the hairs at the back of his neck. As though in a trance, he followed a magnetic pull to the far end of the bar. There his mysterious stranger sat, perched on a stool with their chin resting on their palm.

His cheeks turned crimson despite his best efforts to play it cool. The kinky goth had returned. Thank gods, because frankly his coworkers were fed up with his skiving off all week to pose enticingly against the alley wall, a rotation of lit cigarettes in his hand.

“I’m touched you worried about me darling, but you didn’t even leave a scratch.” Julian angled his neck to display his unmarred throat, expertly arranging his shoulders to show off his collarbones and sharp jawline. “You’ll have to try again.”

“I’m not sure you could handle it.” Their voice was gravelly and low, yet it seemed to stand apart from the din of the crowd. Slowly, they traced their tongue across their parted lips. Julian felt a shiver travel from the nape of his neck all the way to his groin.(shiver in groin?). They analyzed the movement of his pulse hammering against his skin. It was unmarred as he said, which was a mystery of its own. Just who was this bartender?

“Oh, I’m far from fragile… you could really have your way with me.” Leaning over the worn wood, his eyes bore into theirs, tension crackling. 

Suddenly remembering himself and the prying eyes of the other patrons, he shook off the saccharine spell. “So Elvira, Mistress of the Dark, what’s your poison?”

Their composed face dissolved, breaking into a genuine laugh. It carried into their words, bright in contrast to their sultry tones. “Usually I’d go with hemlock, but I’ll mix it up tonight. What’re you drinking?”

Julian chuckled, “One Salty Bitters coming right up. Though I must warn you, it’s an acquired taste.” He sharply set a clean mixing glass on the workspace before grabbing the first ingredient. “First, the bitters,” With a flourish, he tossed the bottle in a practiced flip and added three dashes. Such flair was absolutely forbidden by the manager, but it was time to impress.

“Show-off,” they chided, amused smile only egging him on. “Next, the boo-oo“ The next bottle, a liquor, he tossed behind his back, narrowly missing the catch. They let out a startled gasp. “-ze. I meant to do that. Risk is the most delicious ingredient… ” Julian recovered with a smirk. He poured in three long shots of the mysterious liquid and gave the mixture precisely three stirs.

“Annnnd, last but certainly not least, the salty.” He liberally rimmed a highball glass with salt and poured in the mixture, taking a deep bow. “Voila, Salty Bitters.” They applauded delicately, as though at an opera rather than a raucous bar. Julian started to slide the drink towards them, but stopped just shy of their outstretched fingers.

“Ah ah ah, that’ll cost you… one phone number!” A devilish smirk took over their features, eyes dark and sparkling. The hunt was back on. They leaned forward, practically half of their body across the bar. Warm breath caressing his ear, they whispered, “You more than satisfied me last time…” Julian gulped. “I think it’s my turn to buy you a drink.”

Julian gripped the counter tightly, frozen in place by shock and a hypnotic force. It was only for a second, but long enough for the stranger to disappear into the throng. The only evidence he hadn’t imagined their presence was the fire deep in his belly and cash weighed down by a familiar lighter.

The following night, they nervously fluffed their hair before going into The Raven, chiding themself for being so dramatic. It was time to end the mysterious act and own that they couldn’t keep up the sexy hunting persona around him. The mask fell apart every time, and they didn’t want to be anonymous anymore. He was too sweet, too ridiculous, and frankly too aroused by them to resist. However, the familiar auburn curls were absent as they approached the bar, replaced with a buxom blonde. Disappointment washed over them, as they slipped back out into the night. They would have to wait to get another taste.

Julian was barely halfway through his shift and he was fading. Again. He chugged what was likely his 5th or 6th cup of coffee, wincing as the scalding liquid touched his tongue. He was about to check on Mrs. Patterson in room 312, when he noticed a small huddle of the doctors talking to two police officers in hushed tones. It was… odd. Police tended to stick to the ICU, standing guard over drunk drivers or those fearing for their lives. They never came to the student wing where the cases were more manageable. Dr. Satrinava noticed his lingering stare and tightened their conspiratorial circle. Blush blooming on Julian’s cheeks, he made himself look busy flipping through some case files but continued watching them out of the corner of his eye. 

The circle dispersed, cops heading toward the elevator, the three doctors heading towards him.

“Dr. Satrinava! Do you need me?” He eagerly interjected, practically throwing his body into their path. He tried to hide his desperate curiosity, but was failing miserably.

“That’s alright Julian, this isn’t a student case. Why don’t you go ahead and take a break? You look exhausted.” The doctor replied, lips pressed into a tight line. They fidgeted with their long ponytail anxiously. 

“I really think I could hel-“

“Julian… it was a car crash. A grisly one. I think it’s best I handle it myself, especially given your history.” Julian’s face soured. He didn’t like thinking of the accident, but he liked their pitying look even less.

“You always say to be a successful doctor I’ll have to be exposed to difficult cases!”

“That’s true, but not tonight. Oh, you’ll have to excuse me, I’m getting a page…” Dr. Satrinava stepped around a flabbergasted Julian and motored away down the hall. ‘Did they really just make up having a pager to get out of talking to me?’ He shook his head in disbelief. Now he was more determined than ever to find out what was going on.

He sulked through the remaining hours of work, indignation and curiosity acting as effective caffeine. So much for being a favored student! The first thing Dr. Satrinava taught him was putting aside your emotions and personal bias is paramount to being a good doctor. If his mentor thought he couldn’t handle that, they didn’t think highly of him at all. He could be objective and focused, no matter the subject. The only way to prove them wrong was to get to that file. 

It was practically dawn by the time Satrinava left the hospital. They spent the time locked in their office, ignoring Julian’s tentative knocks every hour on the hour. From time to time their shadow would pace back and forth, agitation apparent even through the frosted glass. But at last, he had his chance. What he hoped was a nonchalant walk was more of a fast scuttle down the hall to the locked door. Getting in was quick work; it was a simple lock he could pick in his sleep. Once inside, the weight of betrayal hung heavy in the air. His skin crawled, as though the room itself knew he wasn’t meant to be there.

Clumsily navigating around the barely lit room, he rammed his hip into the corner of the mahogany desk. Julian stuffed the corner of a fist into his mouth to stifle the yelp. He limped more carefully around to the plush chair and gingerly sat, careful of the wheels and new bruise. It would fade soon enough. Step One down. Step Two, hope Nazali wasn’t going to work from home. 

“If I were a top secret file, where would I hide?” He whispered, rifling through the haphazardly stacked folders. It was made all the more difficult without a patient name, but all the same, none of the active cases from today seemed to match a car crash. Julian was about to give up and get an hour or two of sleep, when he noticed a drawer that was slightly ajar. Wincing, he dared to violate the last barrier of privacy. Inside was the file he sought.

He scanned the diagrams indicating the wound locations, more marks for injuries than free space. His stomach churned as he pictured the poor soul and imagined the immense suffering. If they had been alive, he wouldn’t have been able to stop himself from going to their bedside, trying to take the pain on for himself. But they had passed. Julian’s eyes caught the crucial lines of the document and the folder slipped out of his grip, papers scattering over the floor.

Manner of Death: Pending  
Cause of Death: Exsanguination


	2. Chapter 2

They didn’t head straight home after the disappointment at the bar. The way their gut had dropped just because a silly human wasn’t right where they wanted was embarrassing. It wasn’t that they had been outmatched; they hadn’t lured him into a trap and he had escaped. Yet, it felt disturbingly like a loss. How old were they, to get so upset just because the bakery ran out of the type of jelly donut they wanted? There were others to be had.

He was a _snack_ though.

Despite their wandering, they still arrived home by 3, a perfectly sensible time for nocturnal folk. The door to Asra’s study was closed, his sonorous voice muted by the thick wood. Though neither really needed the money, Asra worked for a psychic hotline most nights. He said he enjoyed relaying messages from the Arcana to strangers plagued by worries in the night, though sometimes they wondered if the conversations were… racier than predictions about a divorcee meeting a new beau at the PTA meeting.

They decided to camp out on the worn upholstered couch in the library, threadbare in favored spots from decades of the same rear ends. The dark mahogany walls and looming towers of dusty tomes served as a protective cocoon. It was as though each turn of the page were the draw of a tarot card, bringing fresh perspective and guidance. They could only imagine what could be learned from Asra’s personal curated selection in his study.

Tonight, they buried their nose in a compilation of old folktales. Maybe they would learn their lesson from cautionary tales not to meddle with beasts or the laws of nature. Hero and antagonist alike often met a grim and untimely end. It had instilled good morals in children for centuries; perhaps it would knock some sense into them. Unfortunately, they had read the same brittle yellow page five times over before Asra poked his snowy head in.

“MC, I can feel your grumpy grey aura wafting all the way down the corridor,” He chided, smiling his squinty half smile. “It’s throwing me off. I just told a woman in her 90s that she would be making a career move soon. What’s on your mind?”

“Just hangry,” they blurted out the first thing that came to mind. He’d never let them out of the crypt if he knew they were toying with a human. Flirting brazenly with the secrecy of their species, maybe bringing ruin to them all... Asra’s face fell into a suspicious frown. “You’ve been out for such long walks every night, I thought you might have been hunting?”

“I just wanted to enjoy the fresh air Asra…”

“Are you having trouble hunting again?” Asra interjected gently, entering the room to perch next to them on the armrest. He rubbed his thumb back and forth on their knee, a kind gesture that came across extremely patronizing. “Let’s go out together, I’ll help…”

“I don’t want to be babied! You’re not the only one allowed to go on secret jaunts whenever the mood to be mysterious strikes.” He flinched at their biting tone, the wounded look bringing a blush of shame to their cheeks. They couldn’t say why they were picking a fight with their mentor, but it did stop the line of questioning in its tracks.

“As you wish… I’ll leave you to it.” He retreated, his own aura darkening to mingle hazily with theirs in his wake.

Their usually cozy coffin felt confining, the lid nauseatingly close to their face. They tossed and turned so forcefully the whole box nearly toppled over more than once.

Julian couldn’t sleep a wink when he finally arrived back at his flat, nor could he concentrate on the looming pile of academia before him. Many wasted hours later, he was dreading is upcoming double shift at the bar. He usually got a full 3 hours of sleep a night, but he was running on empty after his discovery. Mazelinka always scolded him for his impulsive nature. He could hear her now, “You’ll break a leg jumping to all those conclusions, Illya!” Complete with the smack of a wooden spoon on her palm, just for show.

Just because someone had passed of exsanguination didn’t mean the sexy goth was a murderer. Or you know, that vampires existed of all nonsensical things. That was quite a leap. But the question remained, why was Nazali so hell bent on covering it up?

The guilt of breaking in to the office was also weighing heavily on him. Nazali was his mentor: they had written many a recommendation letter, gone out of their way to make sure he had a scholarship to even begin to afford the program, gifted him daily with expert advice and personal guidance. He owed them so much, and he had betrayed their trust. Not to mention the consequences of breaking and entering.

After years of struggle and hard work to earn every opportunity, to be worthy of a place at one of the finest hospitals in the continent, he could lose it all in an instant. Mazelinka would be furious. Pasha would be so let down. They had sacrificed so much for him to get here so he could be an example for his sister. So he could make a good living and take care of his family. That wouldn’t be possible after he confessed this afternoon.

The rush of icy conditioned air hit him hard as the automatic doors slid open. Julian shivered as the sweat from the balmy day and nerves practically frosted over. The lanky man scampered over to the workstation, anxiously drumming his fingers on the speckled laminate countertop. His classmate on duty rolled his eyes all the way up to Julian’s, looking quite irritated at the musical interlude.

“Hhheyyy Kev!! Is uh, Nazali around?”

Heaving a sigh, Kevin replied with a disgruntled mutter. “Really Devorak? Coming in on your day off? Give the rest of us a chance to kiss their ass.” He turned back to the computer, clicking the mouse in a sharp staccato and resuming his documentation. When Julian didn’t move away, he finally muttered, “In their office.”

“Thanks…” Julian didn’t even register the insults. Medicine was a cutthroat profession; Kevin’s sour attitude was practically kind for some of these people. Besides, he was far too occupied keeping his bright illusion up as he walked through the bustling halls to revisit the scene of his crime.

Nazali’s door was open when he arrived, framing the lanky man in clear view. No chance to turn around now. “Julian! How many times have I told you there’s a life outside of this place?” The doctor smiled at him, though he feared not as warmly as they had in the past. Perhaps he was just projecting. “Is there something I can do for you?”

“Dr. Satrinava, there’s ah, something I need to discuss with you.” He carefully closed the door before taking a seat across from his mentor, stomach churning. Gathering all of his resolve, he started. “I couldn’t let go of that car crash case last night. I… I wanted to prove to you that I could put my emotions aside and be objective. I have to confess that I-“

“Julian, I have full confidence in your objectivity,” The doctor cut him off abruptly. “You have the makings of a truly great doctor. You’ve fought very hard to get here, and continue to fight to stay on top of this department. You are in this field because you have a passion to help others, not because there is a family legacy to maintain. Unfortunately, this is a rare quality.” They paused, looking at his blushing face pointedly.

“I sincerely hope I won’t _hear_ of anything that would jeopardize your position here.” So they knew. Julian swallowed the lump in his throat; it felt worse to get off scot free. “No, definitely not Dr. Satrinava. I want to be here more than anything.”

Nazali smiled again, genuinely. “I know. Just don’t let cases consume you. Or consume your day off! Go on; enjoy the beautiful day. Leave the piles of paperwork to me.” He left the hospital promising them both he would try to leave the sleuthing to Nancy Drew on this one.

It was several hours into his shift until Julian was able to escape out of the bar, looking haggard. It was so busy he didn’t even have time to flirt with anything with a pulse. As he tapped the pack of cigarettes on his palm, a sleek black cat emerged from the shadow of a nearby dumpster. It wasn’t one of the usual alley cats he had befriended; they were dirty and wild. This cat trotted up to him and started winding its way around and around his legs.

“Well, hello there! Aren’t you a pretty fellow!” He crouched down slowly, reaching out a hand for the cat to sniff. It butted its head into his hand, all too eager for his affection. “Where’s your collar friend, where’s your home?” He indulged the animal, petting its head and scratching under its chin. He could feel the purrs rumbling through its throat and couldn’t suppress a smile. As he started to stand up, the cat looked him directly in the eye, as though begging him not to stop. Something was _off_ about the cat’s eyes. They seemed almost… human.

Julian recoiled in shock, entire pack of cigarettes falling into a puddle. The cat darted away in fright, back into the darkness it came from. He bent over to grab them again, shaking his head. So much for his nicotine, let alone what remained of his sanity! The exhaustion must be getting to him.

“Do you think it’s true?” a sultry voice whispered. Julian whirled around. Leaning out of the back door to The Rowdy Raven was the goth he couldn’t stop thinking about.

“… What?” He gasped, thoroughly disoriented by the flood of emotions. First was the passing wave of “what the fuck” from the mutant cat, shock at seeing them leaning out of an employees only door, suspicion, and begrudgingly, excitement.

“Y’know, black cats crossing your path?” The corner of their mouth twitched upwards, amused to catch him off guard and vulnerable, even for just a moment. “Bad luck.”

“No, how could something so adorable be a bad omen?” His wits came back to him and the flirty banter was back. “And I’m not just talking about the cat.”

They laughed brightly, sauntering closer to him. Julian stiffened, adrenaline and excitement coursing through him.

“I um… came by yesterday. Seems a Salty Bitter is off menu,” The stranger grinned like the chesire cat, canines in full view. Subtlety was no longer a concern. “The blonde practically tossed me out when I asked.”

“I know what you are.”

The stranger stopped mid-sashay of their hips, seeming slightly surprised at the direct confrontation. The silence hung heavily, both refusing to break eye contact.

“Say it,” the stranger murmured. “Out loud.”

“Vampire.”

They stepped back slowly, as though giving him the space to run. Julian didn’t move. “I thought you might get that impression from me.” The mirth fell from their smile. “It’s not supernatural, I um… have a medical condition?”

“I’m a doctor. Or, I don’t know, trying to be one. Somehow I doubt you have an official diagnosis that clears you to sample stranger’s necks…” The corner of their mouth twitched, but otherwise they didn’t react.

“Why… didn’t you kill me?” Their gaze dropped to their feet, scuffing the asphalt with the toe of a boot.

After a along moment, they returned his gaze. With the softest whisper they replied, “I suppose it felt like our paths were destined to cross again.”

“Or you would seal my fate another night.”

They shakily raised a cool hand to his burning chest. He flinched involuntarily, letting out a quiet whimper. “Your heart is racing… are you afraid? Or does a little danger turn you on?” Their voice was soft, hopeful. It was their turn to be vulnerable.

A war raged inside of Julian. Gods yes, they turned him on. That was becoming more and more obvious. He was genuinely still afraid of the creature before him. The alluring depths of their eyes reassured him, but perhaps they were a siren song.

Julian allowed his body to make a snap judgment and closed the distance between them, pulling their body flush against his. They let out a small squeak of surprise, but settled into him immediately. It felt… right. His hand snaked around to the nape of their neck, threading his slender fingers through their hair.

Painfully slow, as though pulled magnetically towards one another, the two leaned in. Their noses touched softly, cool breath ghosting over his cheeks. Their lips barely brushing-

“Where the FUCK is Julian?!” roared a voice inside the building, shattering the moment. Before he could utter a word, the person in front of him was gone, leaving behind only an echo of fluttering wings.

Julian was flabbergasted. Vampire he had suspected, transforming and flying off to the batcave was unexpected. He let out a frustrated groan. Once again he was left aching, without so much as a name or promise to meet again.

He turned to go in, when the tiniest scroll of paper bound in crimson string bounced off of his boot.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I couldn't resist using Twilight dialogue and I refuse to apologize.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The apprentice has to finish what they started. In this case, a conversation.

Julian grimaced as he scrubbed at the impossibly sticky counter. Was there a chemical reaction between spilled curacao and tequila? Could it be used to make a construction adhesive? The whole place was covered in a film of sweat, body oil, and sugary alcohol from the night’s rowdy patrons. The bar was aptly named, after all.

It _had_ been a good night, he couldn’t deny. Crowds meant a good volume of tips, not to mention a visit from the still nameless goth. He’d been so close, too. If his manager hadn’t flipped his lid right at that moment… but his “absentee behavior this week” was also the reason he was left to lock up by himself. Punished like Cinderella, scrubbing the house all alone.

He was growing legitimately concerned for the state of most human livers, when a soft tap echoed from the metal door to the alley. Julian cautiously wandered over, opening it just a crack. The goth was back, standing in the doorway looking… shy, of all things. A very different demeanor than he’d seen thus far. Cute. He opened the door fully.

“Well, isn’t this a surprise! Once you’ve had a taste, you can’t get enough of me?”

“Oh, I’m not here for you, I just like the atmosphere.” They pursed their lips, holding back a smile.

“Not surprising, The Raven is known for its discerning clientele and refined ambiance.” Julian stepped aside with a low bow, gesturing for them to come inside

“You’ve got to um… invite me in. Verbally, that is.” They fidgeted with the hem of their shirt, avoiding his gaze.

“Oh… right! Please, do come in! Mind the spills, more than a few ‘sloppy sam’s tonight.” He gestured to a scuffed and faded “wet floor” sign that had itself fallen over. They peered curiously around the empty room. Though it wasn’t brightly lit, it looked cavernous and hollow without the noise and people crammed into every inch.

“It’s a bit… out of order, but I just realized that we’re _very_ well acquainted and I don’t even know your name.”

“Julian Devorak, at your service.”

“MC”

“That is a lovely name, for a lovely person. It suits you.” They met his gaze, eyes sparkling. He was the one to blush a vibrant scarlet, part of him hoping they would have blushed too if they could. Julian scampered back behind the bar, hurriedly tidying the space before they realized how affected he was- or how disgusting the bar really was.

“Salty bitters?” He asked, babbling now. Anything to fill the silence.

They chuckled. “As much as I do want to try your… concoction, I can’t.” They slid gracefully onto a barstool, spinning side-to-side absentmindedly. “No offense, I’m sure it’s fantastic. It’s a vampire thing. If I drink it I’ll end up projectile vomi-“ They stopped, horrified. Definitely not the direction they wanted this conversation to go in.

Julian laughed deeply at their face, contorted in a mix of embarrassment and self-loathing. A face he knew all too well. “You’d be in good company, I’d say. It’s not a good salty bitters if you’re not at least a little nauseous.”

They laughed. “And yet it’s your signature drink! Why did anyone even come up with something like this?”

“Well, now that’s a long story…” Julian started, feigning reluctance as he cleaned the garnish tray. They snickered, seeing right through his contemplative face. He’d clearly been dying for the opportunity to perform.

“I was but a young lad of 19 then, but already devilishly handsome,” He carried on, despite their derisive snort. “I had decided to go on an adventure that summer, told Mazelinka I was going to go to camp. Which, I did _camp_ , but maybe not in the way she thought I was. I hitchhiked my way around, saw some gorgeous scenery, met some gorgeous peo-“

“Anyway,” His rag lay to the side, abandoned. “I found myself in the middle of nowhere without a diner in sight. The only place I could quench my thirst was a true dive bar. Seriously, it made this place look class. Between my charm and a less than legitimate form of identification, they let me in. But I think the bartender might have… sensed that I wasn’t really supposed to be there. She made me a double salty bitters, probably to scare me off.”

“But…” he paused for dramatic effect. “She didn’t account for my bullheaded determination to impress. I chugged it.”

“Brava!” They applauded, only slightly sarcastically. He bowed deeply, auburn curls brushing the counter.

“I asked her for the recipe, and the bartender was so in awe she gave it to me. It was an initiation of sorts, it turns out. The regulars accepted me as one of their own, even gave me a ride to the next town on the map. It had the continent’s largest ball of yarn, which was even less impressive than it sounds.”

Julian’s stories, once started, flowed out of him. Each more entertaining than the last, his hand gestures turned into full interpretive dances. The two were so wrapped up in their conversation of dangerous exploits and med school dramas that they barely noticed the fading of night into dawn until it was peeking through the edges of the covered windows.

“Oh. Shit.” They leapt away with a hiss, withdrawing into themselves though they were nowhere near the slivers of pale light. They looked at him desperately, consumed with panic. There wasn’t even a chance of them attempting to fly home; they were truly trapped.

“I can’t go out there like this! Is there somewhere here I could hide? For the day?” They curled in on themselves, picking at their cuticles. Even if they called Asra, admitted what exactly they had been doing all night—which they did _not_ want to do- there wouldn’t be an easy way out of here without getting majorly burnt.

“Ah… well… I think my manager will take objection to my letting a squatter in. What if… you battified yourself and hid in my bag?”

“ _Battify_ myself?” They looked at him incredulously.

“I could keep you out of the sun and… take you back to my place?” he fought the blush that crept onto his cheeks. “Just to hide out! Until you can go back to your… mausoleum?”

“I live in a _house_! What do you think this is, Buffy the Vampire Slayer?” They sputtered with an exaggerated roll of their eyes. “But, going home with you would be really… nice.”

Julian masked his dopey grin with a classic dastardly smirk.

Julian clutched the bag tightly on the sides, hunching his long torso around it protectively on the cab ride, angling himself between the canvas and the window. They both concluded that being crammed in a bag next to his numerous textbooks during morning rush hour wasn’t going to be terribly comfortable and was well worth the $15 ride.

It wasn’t long until he was awkwardly handing slightly sticky cash to the driver and hustling into the apartment complex. Long legs taking the stairs two at a time, Julian was very quickly at his door. Carefully, he peeked into his bag. The bat peered back at him, somehow looking nervous despite being an animal. What had his life come to, that animals having clear emotions seemed commonplace.

“Just need the keys…” He fumbled unlocking the door and started in, before bouncing off what felt like a rubber wall. A disgruntled squeak from inside the bag reminded him. “Ah, come in, you’re super welcome in here!”

“Let me do a safety check…” Julian scurried from window to window, shutting the blinds and throwing a blanket over the unused curtain rod. “There we are… probably won’t kill you now.” He opened the satchel and they flew out, popping into full vampire stature.

“Very reassuring,” They rolled their eyes and leaned back in a deep stretch, wincing as their joints popped.

“I hope it wasn’t too cramped for you, if there had been more clean bar towels…”

“I sleep in a coffin, that was practically roomy.” Smiling at his awkward laugh, they took in the scenery.

The apartment would best be described as “cozy”, in both atmosphere and square footage. What little furniture fit in the living and dining area was entirely mismatched, down to the chairs. The kitchen table was almost entirely obscured by books, loose papers, and a nearly empty abandoned carafe of coffee.

Julian discreetly kicked a pile of laundry under the couch. They pretended not to see, focusing on the refrigerator. Pinned by magnets were several polaroid photos, faded with age. Each depicted a younger Julian and a girl with the same red curls: making silly faces, fighting off what appeared to be a vicious noogie, and posing politely –if sheepishly- with an older woman. They smiled, gently straightening them.

“Home sweet home. Can I get you anything? I guess I don’t actually _have_ anything to give you. Unless you’d like another sample…”

“That’s alright, I try not to eat before bed. At least not in that way.” they wiggled their eyebrows suggestively. As if on cue, they were taken by a wide yawn. Julian smiled softly, it seemed even vampires got sleepy. Contagious, he yawned as well; suddenly aware he had been awake for entirely too many hours.

“I suppose we should get some sleep, you’re nocturnal of course and I’m practically the same by habit… Let me show you to the bedroom. I’ll of course be out here, on the couch.”

He was sure he imagined the rumbling low chuckle as he led the way past a small bathroom and into the bedroom. More laundry and books littered the floor, but the bed was neatly made. They noted it was probably out of disuse, rather than a rare spot of organization. Draping themselves horizontally across the furniture, they arched their back in a deep stretch. Out of the corner of their eye, they saw his lingering gaze and slightest lick of his lips.

“I can’t remember the last time I slept outside of a coffin… it’s so open. Maybe you could wrap your arms around me. Y’know. So I’m comfortable,” they patted the spot on the bed next to them, looking at him pointedly.

“What kind of host would I be to deny my guest’s request?” Julian grinned, practically jumping onto the bed, settling on his side next to them. They studied each other as the exhaustion tampered the tension into sleepy contentment.

“Who’s the girl on the fridge? She’s pretty.”

“My sister, Portia. Definitely not a girlfriend. I'm very unattached.”

“I thought so. Only someone in your family could have hair that red and unruly,” They said good-naturedly.

“Do… you have any family?” Their face fell very slightly, but Julian noticed. He bit his lip, perhaps he had stumbled upon another vampire rule, or poked a terribly soft spot.

“Not anymore. At least, I don’t think I do. But I have Asra. He’s like family,” Their eyes grew distant. Asra would be beside himself with worry when they didn't come home. Disappearing acts were his specialty, but he certainly didn't like the roles to be reversed. The two laid quietly for a time, before Julian worked up the courage to ask another, probably too intrusive, question.

“How long… how long have you been a vampire? Is it rude to ask?”

“No, it’s okay,” they started slowly. “I’ve been a vampire for about 30 years. That I can remember, anyway. Time gets complicated, when it’s all you have. It’s easy to lose track, to forget who you are. Or were.”

“I don’t like it, if it makes a difference,” They murmured, avoiding his gaze. “The feeding part. I’m sure it doesn’t help, especially as someone who saves lives. Or as someone who almost…” they sighed, cool breath filling the few inches between them. “I just mean… it’s not something I take lightly or impulsively. I don’t want to hurt anyone. I don’t want to hurt you.”

The words were gravely serious. They could have killed him, could kill him, at any time. The question was ridiculous, and they were almost certain to hate the answer. Yet, they had to ask. Finally mustering all of their courage to be able to look at him, in the smallest voice, they spoke.

“Do you feel safe around me?”

Julian paused for a long moment, considering. Their eyes skimmed over his uncharacteristically serious expression, searching for something to hold on to.

“I don’t think you’re going to kill me,” he whispered. “But I think you could be my downfall.”


	4. Chapter 4

They awoke alone, the apartment quiet and dark. The covers were rumpled on the other side of the bed, but otherwise were cold and empty. Disappointing. They wandered into the kitchen, indeed, no Julian. A note was left on the counter, weighted down by one of the well-loved coffee mug. The script was almost illegible; calling it chicken scratch would be unkind to the birds.

```

Count Chocula,

Sorry to leave without saying goodbye, you sleep like the dead! (haha) I had to go to work, but I’ll be home around 2. Feel free to stay; my crypt is your crypt

J

```

They really should be getting back to Asra. A nasty thought crossed their mind. Asra would do whatever he wanted, so would they. Taking the note to heart, they didn’t waste any time exploring their new surroundings. It had been a long time since they’d been in a strictly human space like this. Julian’s apartment was so different from the dusty antique mansions of their species. Even new millennial vampires seemed to be drawn to vintage aesthetics. There was something about immortality that really brought the pretension out.

The first stop on their nosy tour was back at the bedside table. It was better to start with the good secrets, in case he got back early. The lamp was practically pushed off of the tabletop, there were so many books fighting for a spot. Many were textbooks on a variety of medical subjects, ranging from neurology to something called electrophysiology and, their personal favorite, hematology. There was even a book on mortuary science, clearly a new addition based on the position of the bookmark.

In contrast, tucked behind the precarious stack was a very well loved paperback. The cover was tattered and threatened to fall off in their gentle grasp. A devilish grin spread across their features as they took in the cover image. A damsel in a gauzy translucent dress clung to the toned, bare chest of a brawny man. He was intense and broody, as he seemed to fight an internal battle to both push her away and pull her close. The most notable features; however, were a dramatic widow’s peak and two very small fangs protruding from his plush lips. They kept it, happy with their newfound entertainment for the evening.

Moving to the bathroom, they paused to stare intensely in the mirror. As if they focused enough, a reflection would appear. Hopefully their hair wasn’t a wreck. Like the rest of the apartment, the items were few and casually arranged. Julian was a man who traveled light, but was by no means meticulous. The only items on the counter were a mug containing his toothbrush, safety razor casually laid on a pot of some kind of shaving cream, and a small bottle of cologne. They couldn’t resist spritzing just a dash on the inside of their wrist. Warmth of amber, spicy, alluring, with a hint of bright bergamot as it settled. It suited him.

After freshening up, they headed around the corner to the kitchen. They opened each of the cabinets curiously. The cupboards were pretty empty, save for an essentially empty jar of peanut butter, two boxes of mac ‘n cheese, and a few plates- also mismatched. The entire place had been lovingly assembled at a flea market, yet it was cohesive. As though the objects belonged together.

The fridge was also practically barren. They snorted. It was a very good thing they didn’t need to find sustenance, it certainly wouldn’t be found in this apartment. How he survived, they couldn’t imagine. They trailed a finger on the counter top as they turned about the room. There were little splatters of coffee, layered and dried on the surface.

Last stop on the unguided tour was the disaster of a kitchen table. The papers were covered in more of the scrawled words, made even harder to understand by the subject matter. More books crowded the space, papers sticking out of the sides marking pages with notes. He didn’t seem to use most of the dwelling, despite its small square footage. His routine seemed to be come in, bury his nose in one of these books so deeply he didn’t know he spilled his coffee, and leave again.

A noise at the door interrupted their musings: a key fiddling with the lock. They nearly jumped out of their skin and dove across the room, draping themselves strategically on the couch. They opened the harlequin novel to any page and put on their best “engrossed in a book” expression. No need for Julian to know how they had used their time.

However, the redhead that burst through the door was not the one they had expected. Unmistakably, it was the girl on the fridge. She bustled inside, heaving a massive paper takeout bag onto the counter, appearing to be oblivious to their presence.

“Illyaaaaa, it’s your favorite sister come to feed youuuu!” She sang, unpacking containers, completely unaware of their presence. They peered over the top of the couch. They had been so shocked by it not being Julian, but they had now waited in silence for too long. It’d be awkward if they said anything, but she was going to have a heart attack if she turned around and saw them being a creep.

“Illya?”

“Um, hi. He’s at work,” they stuttered, waving awkwardly at her from their hiding spot.

“Oh! Hi there! I’m Portia Devorak, Julian’s far more charming sister. Who are you?”

“I recognized you from the photos on the fridge, you both have that gorgeous red hair! I’m MC, I’m a… friend.”

“And my brother just let you hang out here? All by yourself?”

“Seems so.”

Portia hummed, a suspicious glint in her eye. “You must be a very special friend. My brother is kind of slippery. He doesn’t let just anyone know where he’s at, let alone wander his place without him.”

They would have blushed, if they could.

“So… whatcha doin’?” Portia moved to perch on the top of the couch, legs draped over to rest next to theirs. She seemed to have no reservations about physical contact or personal boundaries.

“Your brother has some interesting literature lying around.” They replied with a smirk, brandishing the worn book with glee. Something told them Portia would be just as amused as they were.

“Sins of the Night? Vom. I can’t believe he’s on this again. I’ll be the first to say he’s a genius- not to his face of course, we’ve got to manage his ego somehow!” neither stifled the snickers that bubbled forth. “But soppy romance stuff is his kryptonite. I fully blame his penchant for the melodramatic on this rot. Always wants to be the hero with big self-sacrificing gestures.” Portia accentuated the statement with a massive eye roll.

“You should have seen him as an angsty teen. It was like a Hot Topic threw up on him. He was obsessed with stuff that was actually macabre, like really weird cults and drawing anatomically hearts on stuff. Don’t worry; he’s not a serial killer. Probably. But he also had a secret Edward Cullen vampire obsession for a bit there.”

“Swear you won’t tell him I told you this?” Without waiting for a conspiratorial nod, Portia continued. “Between you and me, I think he once had a wet dream about Nosferatuuu-Lian!“

Portia’s gossip was cut short as her brother slipped through the door. His slumped posture betrayed his exhaustion, but his eyes were bright as they roved over the gleeful pair monopolizing his couch.

“Pasha! I didn’t expect you tonight!” Julian said cheerily, coming over to kiss his sister on the cheek. “What are you doing here so late? I should tell Maz that you’re up way past your bedtime.”

“I come bearing gifts!” Portia cheerily announced, ignoring his critique of her nighttime activities and gesturing to the mountain of containers on the counter. “MC, I have enough to feed an army let alone a little bird like Illya. Come get in on this.” She flung her legs back around the top of the couch, leaping across the room to start rummaging in the drawers for utensils.

“Hi,” Julian whispered, leaning over the back of the couch to peck the vampire on the cheek while his sister was distracted. “Sorry I had to disappear like that. Making new friends?”

“Hi there,” For a moment, they were quiet, gingerly fingering the spot where he had kissed. The reprieve was short lived, as the devilish grin returned. “Portia was just regaling me with tales of your youth.”

Julian blushed, eyes darting to look up at his sister who was trying very hard to look innocent as she arranged the containers by food group.

“What did she-“

“I’ve been sworn to secrecy… but I hear you have a type,” Their smirk only intensified at the pout that took over Julian’s suave features, looking every bit the petulant teen.

Their side conversation was cut short as Portia began opening the containers of pasta, and the scent of garlic and herbs filled the small space. For Julian, the aroma was mouthwatering. For them, it sparked claustrophobia. They visibly recoiled, perspiration beginning to dampen their forehead. It was not subtle, and both redheads looked concerned. Noticing the pointed stares, they forced themselves to straighten up with a shaky smile.

“Sorry, I’m a little, well, more like a lot allergic to garlic,” they admitted, feeling their presence morph into an intrusion on family time. Portia gaped at them.

“Oh you poor thing! Doomed to a life of bland food, and here I’ve been waving this bread in your face!”

“I dunno, I’ve found some pretty delicious meals without garlic involved,” They chuckled. While Portia was looking away, they masked their discomfort with a wink. He blushed, looking away to fidget with the container in front of him.

“But please, don’t let me keep you from your meal. I should have left ages ago as it is.”

“Nooo don’t go! Julian might actually sit still long enough to eat out of social obligation if you’re here,” The redhead begged. “We can open the window?”

They beamed at the girl, warmth building in their chest. Portia brought a feeling of welcome they hadn’t felt in a long time, and had an open quality that was a stark contrast to the mysterious nature of the rest of their social circle. Giving the counter a wide berth, they pushed the forced the sticky windowsill up. The cool night air immediately relieved the pressure in their temples.

While the others were assembling their food, they began gathering the haphazard papers and research, pushing them into an orderly stack so there would be a place for the siblings to eat. Julian reached the table first, delicately wedging his plate between the piles. It was tight, but they’d be able to eat without getting _too_ much pasta sauce on the pages. To keep their distance, they slipped between the table and the wall, promptly stubbing their toe.

Muttering a curse, they bent to examine the offending object: a thin wooden board. It was leaning against the wall, facing away. Curious, they turned it around and lifted it to rest on the seat of the chair. It was about three feet wide and two feet high, covered in a patchwork of papers and photographs. A thick, red yarn haphazardly connected the images and texts.

“Um, Julian? What the hell.” At their words, Portia peered over their shoulder and gasped, seeing a few of the more… grotesque images.

“Oh, god. That’s an appetite killer,” Julian muttered and moved to take the board down. They placed a palm on his chest and gently pushed him back, taking a closer look at one of the images.

“What is this?”

“So, at the hospital, I’ve seen some interesting cases- There’s been some unfortunate car crashes, that um. Don’t seem like car crashes.”

“Illya…” Portia warned, voice growing dangerous.

“Pasha, I don’t think I’m imagining things this time! I’m not saying this is what happened to mama and papa, but… it’s a really strange coincidence, don’t you think?”

“Illya, our parents were NOT killed by vampires! It wasn’t funny then and it’s really not funny now!” Portia slammed her plate on the table and balled her fists at her sides, trying to remain in control in spite of the vitriol she felt.

They squinted, peering mere centimeters from one of the grisly photographs. It was pinned on top of a scrap of paper, obscuring most of the text other than the smeared and highlighted words “coarse hair found in wound”.

“Werewolf,” they muttered, freezing the scene behind them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sins of the Night is a real book, I am judging it by its cover. There were many good options to choose from including:  
> Dead as a Doornail (romantic??)  
> From Dead to Worse  
> Night Pleasures  
> A Hunger Like No Other  
> A Bite to Remember  
> Friday Night Bites  
> and All I Want for Christmas is a Vampire
> 
> Thank you all so much for your support, it means the world!


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